When I was at School and in my late teens, I used to write a lot of poetry. Julia suggested I might like to publish this one.
It was written when I was about 18. It shows the vaulting ambition that one has at that age! Never mind, here goes:
My aim is to
Sing a song of beauty,
To gather loveliness
Out of the wind's caress.
To bring pain
Into the heart of youth,
To draw out passion
From the budding rose
And make it live again
In some throbbing breast.
To pierce the bud of jessamine
And bring forth scents and sounds
Excelling all those ever smelt or heard on earth before.
That is my aim.
I continued writing poetry when I was at University and into my early twenties. Then I stopped.
However, when I was de-cluttering the other day, I found this poem. It seemed to pop out at me, saying "I want to be
heard." I remembered that about 10 years ago I went to a Druid's weekend workshop, which I loved and felt I was a Druid.
At the end we were asked to write a poem. Here it is:
Night is beauty,
Beauty is the night.
Darkness cloaks the land,
Stars prick the blue-black sky,
An infinite variety.
The moon rides high,
Casting her ghostly beams
On hills and valleys,
Streams and glistening seas.
The earth stirs and dreams in her sleep
And we dream too, and rest and are refreshed,
Whilst our souls travel on some nocturnal errand,
And angels touch us lightly as they pass.
O deep, mysterious night!
I stand in wonder at your vast infinity.
Darkness and light together,
Waiting for the coming of the dawn.